


The Jazz Singer

by SmallTownBelle



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 06:08:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/896740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmallTownBelle/pseuds/SmallTownBelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek's always loved jazz, and when he catches a familiar tune on a walk one night, he can't help but follow his ears to the freckled boy who sings it.</p>
<p>Stiles has just started his job as the lounge singer at a small restaurant in town, and there's one rugged face who shows up every night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley

**Author's Note:**

> Pop on a Frank Sinatra inspired Pandora station while you read. It makes it so much better. 
> 
> Each title is a song title from the playlist that I listen to while I type.

        Some of Derek's earliest memories were of his mother dancing around their living room tucked into his father's arms, swaying carefully to the jazz music that drifted from the small radio. Derek would smile, watching his parents turn about the room, laughing with each other, happier than he'd ever seen them. So, it was safe to say that Derek had always loved jazz. He would catch himself humming Frank Sinatra under his breath as he cooked himself dinner, or Dean Martin as he folded his laundry.

        Unfortunately, living in a college town there seemed to be a lack of others who appreciated the genre. He'd go for walks in the evening down the main strip of town, the streetlights illuminating the pavement, silver stars twinkling in the sky, and as he'd start to hum to himself, a loud booming dub step song would escape the open window of the bar he passed. Derek would sigh, continuing on his walk, humming a bit louder. He missed the days when he'd walk down the strip with his mother, the music he loved playing softly from the small restaurants that lay nestled there.

        But tonight was different. He had given up hope of hearing anything that wasn't some top 40 hit, the town wasn't what it used to be. He let his toes scuff against the pavement of the sidewalk before a familiar tune drifted to his consciousness from across the street.

        Derek's head cocked to the side as he came to a full stop, glancing to each side to make sure he wouldn't get hit as he quickly crossed the street, meandering into the small restaurant the music had come from.

        “Can I seat you?” A young blonde asked as he entered, and he gave his hand a bit of a wave in dismissal, craning to see where the voice was coming from. The blonde sighed as if she'd been in this situation more than once, “Follow me.” She smiled. Derek's brow furrowed, but he followed the girl through the maze of tables, bringing him to an adjacent room set with chairs, a small crowd of people watching the boy the voice came from. He stood on a stage, if you could call it that, a collection of musicians scattered behind him. The raised platform the singer stood on lifted him a good foot above the people he sang for, a small light set up on either side to project a soft glow on him. A sign sat at the bottom of his mic-stand, the name  _Stilinksi_ written out in an elegant script. 

        Derek felt his breath hitch in his chest as he took him in, quietly moving to sit on the side of the room. His voice was smooth, a classic Sinatra hit pouring from his lips as the small assortment of men who formed the band that played behind him swayed with the music they played. Freckles danced across the singer's skin like constellations in the sky, his golden brown eyes full of life. He wore a pair of dark jeans that hugged him in all the right places, a red button up, sleeves turned up to his elbows. The red was bright in contrast to his skin, and Derek couldn't help but stare. Before he knew it, the tune ended and the singer smiled, gesturing to his band.

        “Thank you!” He beamed, speaking to the audience, “Thank all of you for making my first night here so wonderful!” The brunette clapped his hands together with a smile, “I'll hopefully see all of you here next time. Monday, Wednesday, Fridays!” He gave a bit of a bow before motioning to his band once more, heading off the stage. Slowly, the band begin to collect their music once more, tucking it into folders, taking instruments apart. Derek sat and watched as people filtered out, one by one until he was the only one left. Even the band had finished packing their things and left the stage.

         Derek knew what he was doing every Monday, Wednesday & Friday from now on.


	2. Rockin' Robin

        The weekend was long, and when Monday finally rolled around, Derek found himself counting down the hours till evening when he could head back to the lounge. He went out earlier than he had on Friday, he'd arrived at the end then, and he wanted to be there for the entire set this time.

        The blonde who'd seated him before flashed a smile, motioning for him to go in as the band's warm up drifted from the room. A few people, like Derek, had come a bit earlier, and he settled himself into the same seat he had before.  
  
        “Stiles!” Came a call from a man with a saxophone as the singer made his way to the stage, a brief hug exchanged between them, “Looking sharp.” The freckled boy flushed a bright red, red enough that Derek could see it from here, and he'd agree with the saxophonist. In a tailored suit, the singer, Stiles, looked even better this time than last time.

        “I figured I'd go authentic.” Stiles replied with a laugh before clicking his mic on, humming into it to check the sound. He let his fingers drum against thigh as he watched as people filtered into the room, giving small waves or a flash of a bright smile. Derek felt a bit of an usual tightness in his chest as the boy smiled, jealous that it wasn't at him.

       “Welcome back, everyone. Hope you all had a good weekend,” Stiles began to speak as the flow of people slowed, “If you missed my show on Friday, not to worry. I'll introduce myself again. My name is Stiles Stilinski, and I'm so glad to be here. I'll be a regular performer throughout the summer, and if it goes well enough into the fall as well.” A wide grin pulled at the boy's lips, “So without further ado, let's get some music in here.” He gave a grand gesture to his band who began to play an upbeat tune.

        Stiles had a presence that Derek couldn't deny as he watched him maneuver the stage, singing and swaying in time without missing a beat. He felt his eyes glued to the boy and as hard as he tried, he couldn't pull himself from the grasp that Stiles had over him. Derek lost track of time, the songs blending themselves together as Stiles sang, commanding the attention of everyone in the room.

        The band came to a full crescendo as Stiles lifted his arms on cue, dropping them at the cut of the music. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he gave a bit of a bow, thanking the crowd for their attendance once more. He let his eyes scan the collection of people, his heart skipping a beat as he made eye contact with the youngest man in the audience. From what Stiles could see of him, he was rugged, the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. Immediately feeling a wave of self consciousness wash over him, he flashed one last smile, directed at the man before leaving the stage.

        He didn't know if his being there was a fluke or a one time thing, but Stiles decided he could get used to looking out at the audience and seeing that face.

 


	3. Ain't That A Kick In The Head

        3 weeks passed, and Derek went to ever single show Stiles sang. Sometimes the set list was the same, sometimes it was different, but he couldn't bring himself to miss one. The 5th show he had attended, a Monday -which was surprisingly Stiles's best show. It was like the boy put as much effort in as he could, to make the beginning of a week a little brighter-, Derek had finally managed to work up the courage to change his seat. Instead of sitting three quarters of the way back and tucked into the right side like he usually did, Derek made his way into the now familiar room, sitting in the center of the 3rd row.

        Stiles took the stage with a smile, adjusting his tie as his eyes glanced to the spot where the man usually sat. He frowned a little as the seat was empty. He was always here. 10 minutes early, in that exact spot every time. He hoped the frantic gaze that took his features wasn't too obvious as he scanned for him, an immediate wave of relief coming to wash over him as he spotted the man. A small smile pulled at his lips as he locked his gaze, throwing a bit of a wink before starting the band up.

         Derek wasn't sure how he was supposed to react to the display. He had watched as Stiles's eyes darted to his usual seat, watched the frantic gaze in the boy's eyes as he searched for him. At least Derek knew if he ever worked up the courage to talk to him that he'd smile and be friendly, and that it'd be genuine. Stiles had been worried thinking Derek hadn't shown. He didn't quite know what to take from it, but it was something, right?

          It turned into a game for them, Derek moving his seat around each time he came, Stiles trying his best to quickly spot him and send him a wave or something of the sorts. The band had begun to pick on him, flirting with the one young guy in the audience. Scott, Stiles's best friend and his saxophonist had been the worst about it.

        “Just talk to the guy, would you?” He'd prodded one night after a show as the climbed into Stiles's jeep.

        “I dunno, Scott. He's just a guy who likes jazz.” Stiles shrugged loosening his tie, “Maybe he's straight. Maybe he's an axe-murderer!” He glanced to Scott with wide eyes, “He wears that leather jacket a lot. You know what they say about leather.” Scott's eyebrows knitted together at the last comment, but he shook his head as he looked to Stiles.

          “Or he came in because he heard music and he thinks you're hot.” It earned a half a glare from Stiles, who would have thrown in a half a pout as well, but was driving, and the musician let out a loud laugh, “I'm just saying. Introduce yourself personally, at least.”

        Stiles sighed, pulling over to let Scott out, running a hand over his face. Unfortunately, Scott was usually right about these sorts of things. “You really think I should?” Scott heaved the case for his saxophone out of the jeep with a nod.

        “100%. If I have to hear you call him, 'The guy from the show' one more time, I'll introduce the two of you myself.”

          Stiles hadn't expected Scott to actually follow up with that threat, however. He had never imagined that Scott would grab him by the arm after a show and drag him down off the platform of the stage. He'd never imagined colliding with the man either – well that was kind of a lie, but it definitely wasn't like this when he pictured it in his head- and having Scott shout a 'You're welcome!' as he stalked off to put his instrument away.

         Stiles's face flushed a bright shade of red as he awkwardly pulled himself from the man's broad chest, extending a hand. “I'm Stiles.” He spoke, his voice far more nervous than he'd imagined, “But you probably know that, because you've been here every night that I've been. And thank you so much for that, it really means a lot-” He caught himself rambling, cutting off the words as they continued to spill directly from his brain.

         “I'm Derek.” He smiled, taking his hand carefully in his own, noting how adorable he looked as his cheeks and the tip of his ears glowed a bright red, trying not to wonder just how far that blush spread, “You're really good you know. Your voice is amazing.”

          Stiles grinned at the compliment, his eyes sparkling as he looked at Derek. The name suited him. He was just glad he finally had a name to put to the face he found himself pining over. A shout came from one of his fellow performers, and Stiles sighed deeply.

          “Thank you, so much. But... I've got to go,” He glanced over his shoulder to the group that was leaving without him, “I'll see you on Monday?” The lounge singer asked with a hopeful smile.

 

                “I wouldn't miss it.” Derek replied with a smile.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm literally posting chapters as I write them, so you're welcome, I think?


End file.
